


Wild Hearts

by RoseMeister



Category: Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-03 17:58:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6620644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseMeister/pseuds/RoseMeister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What do you want?" Ioreth demands. The Wraith doesn't reply at first. Just frowns and frowns as if that were all his message were, his vague disapproval of her.</p><p>He speaks finally, and it's like metal scraping against metal, harsh enough to make her clench her teeth. "I want to know what it is you think you're doing with her."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wild Hearts

The Wraith flashes into sight, draining what life was left in the world away. He opens his mouth to speak, but Lithariel has stood, walking close to where he stands, her eyes not quite focused on him.

"Is he here? Your spirit friend. There's something shining, in the corner of my eye. Like a whisper I can half hear, a memory brushing my fingertips."

The Wraith's mouth snaps shut, his lips drawn into two harsh lines. He glares at Lithariel, as if she could see, and gestures at Ioreth to follow him, turning and walking away. Lithariel's eyes track him, her eyes settling an inch away from where he walks, and she frowns, as if she's not quite sure if he's really there or not.

Ioreth claps her on the shoulder, jolting Lithariel's gaze up to her face, and smiles. "Wait here," she whispers, "I'll be right back."

Lithariel nods, and Ioreth swivels away from her, following the Wraith to a short distance away, close enough to still see Lithariel, but far enough that if they keep their voices low, she shouldn't be able to hear.

"What do you want?" Ioreth demands. The Wraith doesn't reply at first. Just frowns and frowns as if that were all his message were, his vague disapproval of her.

He speaks finally, and it's like metal scraping against metal, harsh enough to make her clench her teeth. "I want to know what it is you think you're doing with her."

"Nothing! I'm doing nothing. Just talking. Is that not allowed, Wraith?"

"It hardly looks like 'nothing'. We don't even need to be in her company, and I still do not understand why we linger in it."

"She offered us her help. Are you really going to turn that down? Because of your unfounded distrust?"

The Wraith sighs, long and drawn out, not breathy, he doesn't have the air within his lungs to do that. Rougher, like boulders tumbling down a hill. "You forget how long I wandered, how much I have seen. I know her people, they have not changed in millennia. And I fear you do not understand her... intentions."

"Intentions of what?"

"Courtship. But in a more vulgar sense."

"You think she's been flirting with me."

The Wraith recoiled, and Ioreth would have almost bet his cheeks would have coloured had they been able.

"Perhaps," he says, coughing slightly, "and you would do well not to encourage her."

"And if I want to? Encourage her I mean. Reciprocate."

The Wraith pinched his nose. "She is a Tribesmen. She is wild, and dirty, and uncultured."

"We have spent most of our days in the company of Uruks, the dead and the soon to be dead. Surely Lithariel is a step up from that?"

"It does not take much to be better than an Orc."

"I feel like you would react the same to anyone I was interested, regardless of who they are. I'm surprised, Wraith, I didn't take you as the overprotective Older Brother type."

The Wraith waved his hand in dismissal, and dissolved, letting Ioreth's eyes see proper colour again.

Ioreth walked back to their campsite, noting with pleasure the way Lithariel jumped up at her approach.

"Was something wrong?" Lithariel asked.

"No. Our friend was just a bit... concerned about the relationship between you and me."

"Oh?"

"He thinks that we may just be hovering on the precipice of our friendship, far too close to toppling into something else."

Lithariel's hand fiddled with her amulet, brushing over it's carved ridges with a well practiced hand, not needing her eyes to guide her. It almost seemed to glow under her touch.

"Is he alone in thinking that?" Lithariel asked, her eyes not quite meeting Ioreth's. "That we stand upon the precipice, looking down at the land below, not yet brave enough to jump?"

"He could be. It depends."

"On what?" Lithariel's voice dropped into a whisper. Not out of fear, no, her tone rather carried a sense of expectation. Longing.

Lithariel took it. Let the Wraith curse her, she's not going to let a branch in destiny slide untaken past her, like leaves in a steady river. 

"On whether we are brave enough to jump." Ioreth says, and steps closer, further into the light that the campfire casts. It's dull really, compared with how bright the sun used to get, back in Gondor, or in Lithariel's homeland. But it's enough to make Ioreth feel naked, stripped bare, like the firelight is strong enough to take away every shadow she has hidden in since she was struck with the curse. And every one in the years before that. She was the shadow, the midnight wind that carried a bladed chill in it's wake, but now, now she just felt like a normal woman. No shadows to hide in, just the thrill of waiting as seconds passed by, dragging fate closer and closer.

"I think we are brave enough." Lithariel whispers, her voice carrying her words like birdsong to Ioreth's ears. 

They press close Ioreth is no longer sure whose movements is whose, they've all blurred together in the delicious certainty that they were both moving, intertwine, together. 

Lithariel's lips are dry, and rough, but Ioreth can't bring herself to care, not when Lithariel is so close, and so warm, warmer than dragon fire, infecting her further with every beat of her heart. 

She feels like long grasses, the misty breaths of long clouds, untraceable mountains and ruins that belong to no one but the vines that are slowly ripping them to pieces. She tastes like a freedom Ioreth hasn't known in years.

Ioreth's eyes are closed, but she doesn't need them, not when her hands are more trustworthy than her eyes, inking out a map she fervently hopes will become well tread in the days to come.

**Author's Note:**

> Can you imagine how much better this game would be if Ioreth was the main character, and Lithariel appeared for longer than ten minutes?
> 
> Edit: Hi everyone! just so u guys know im working on another, longer ioreth/lithariel piece that has taken forever to write bc a) its longer than i thought it would be and b) im really good at procrastinating. But i should have it done by the end of the year so heres hoping.


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